


Barrel Of A Gun

by Lothiriel84



Series: Useless [2]
Category: The Bunker (Podcast)
Genre: Backstory, I Don't Even Know, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 04:44:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11913465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothiriel84/pseuds/Lothiriel84
Summary: What do you expect of me?What is it you want?Whatever you've planned for meI'm not the one





	Barrel Of A Gun

He’d shot a man in cold blood. Another human being, who had been alive, and breathing, yet was now lying in the dust, like an empty shell in the barren landscape of the Wasteland.

The worst thing about it, was that he felt nothing; absolutely nothing, only the distant memory of a rush of adrenaline, his finger barely hesitating for the fraction of a second. It had been over all too soon, leaving him numb, yet restless at the same time. He was lying in the dark, staring at the blackness surrounding him, wondering how it felt to be dead; not to have to keep on breathing, and thinking, and struggling through this living hell all the time.

Thank gods Dave hadn’t been trying to kill himself, at the very least. He hadn’t told the others the truth about Jerry, how he had found his body on the bunker rooftop with his gun still in his palm; he’d fed them a story about a raider instead, how Jerry had tried to stop them, and ended up with a bullet in his head. Still, he had confiscated the gun, though back then he hadn’t suspected he would end up using it far too soon.

He vainly tried to block out the noise of his two roommates’ breathing, like countless other nights before, tossed and turned in his bed praying for sleep to come. God, how he hated this stupid bunker, having to share his space with other members of the human race without ever being given a single moment’s respite.

The door screeched on its hinges, and he froze, alert, his ears straining to pick even the softest of sounds. Someone tiptoed into the room, carefully, and made their way towards his bed; he could hear them breathing now, leaning over him, peering down at him in the darkness.

“David, it’s me. Are you awake?”

Almighty Coke, what was Dave even thinking, creeping around other people’s room at this time of the night? And why the hushed tones, as if he wanted to make sure no one else could hear him?

“I swear, if it’s about that Wastelander again,” he muttered, only to trail off as the bed creaked under the added weight of another person; a hand reached for him in the dark, running up his arm, urgently, yet somewhat hesitantly, until it rested on the side of his neck.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed, mere seconds before he found himself silenced with a clumsy, rather awkward kiss. His first instinct was to shove Dave away, order him to stop with this madness, and just go back to his room; except that his traitorous body straight up refused to do his bidding, welcoming the foreign, not entirely unpleasant feeling as somewhat of an improvement over not being able to feel anything whatsoever.

For a man who had been staring death in the eye a mere few hours prior, a slightly over the top reaction was only to be expected under the circumstances; or, that’s what he told himself, as he let Dave kiss him hungrily, his fingers now struggling with the buttons of his shirt.

“You – you don’t have to do that,” he panted, as Dave started planting open mouthed kisses down his bare chest, pausing only to undo the zip of his trousers.

“I know. Please. I want to.”

He grabbed a fistful of Dave’s hair, bit at his own knuckles to stop himself from screaming. If that was retribution for taking a life and saving another, it couldn’t be such a terrible thing after all.


End file.
